


Crave You

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: (???), + smaller mentions of, Begging, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Collars, Cunnilingus, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Teasing, chubby Michael, george salazar if youre reading this im so fucking sorry, thigh worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 07:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jeremy can't get his mind off of Michael's thighs. Things escalate from there.





	Crave You

**Author's Note:**

> This is uhhhh the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written & i wrote the first ~half of it while drunk off of straight rum  
> Anyway I basically just smooshed all/most of my kinks into one fic so that's why it's low-key A Mess but I think it's still???? Good writing??????

Jeremy and Michael’s relationship is organic, blossoming into something greater without a dramatic confession from one or the other. It was a hand on the hip, it was a loving look, it was a hesitant but meaningful kiss on the lips. Their love transcends words, their minds and hearts shaped around each other after twelve years of friendship, only interrupted temporarily in the twelfth, and they’re past that now, blessedly. Regardless of their wordless professions of love, though, they know communication is vital, and that’s why Jeremy asks first.

It’s a casual hangout in Michael’s basement; they’d turned the TV off for the night and were laying together in Michael’s adjacent bedroom, Jeremy with his head on Michael’s chest. It would be perfectly comfortable if it weren’t for the fact that Jeremy had been… _frustrated_ all day. It’s like that sometimes; his hormones kick in at inopportune times, and he focuses on Michael more than schoolwork- Michael’s body, that is; he already focuses on Michael more than almost anything else. Junior year seems like a dream now, really. And, of course, when he thinks about Michael’s body, he more specifically means Michael’s thighs.

God, he loves Michael’s thighs. Needless to say, it’s not his _favorite_ thing about him; more importantly than his body, Jeremy adores his personality, his style, his enthusiasm over retro things and technology that he himself can hardly understand… but boys will be boys, and boys will love their boyfriends’ thighs. Despite Jeremy’s protests and reassurance, Michael had always been insecure about his body, some days more than others. He thinks about it from time to time, thinks _deep,_ thinks about how he could possibly convey the adoration and convince Michael that his body is absolute perfect. _Especially those fucking thighs, Jesus Christ,_ Jeremy thinks, and shifts uncomfortably. Michael doesn’t notice.

Eventually, Jeremy speaks up. “Y’know, Michael,” he says, trailing gentle fingertips across Michael’s bare thigh. “I really do think you’re beautiful.” His fingers settle and rub small circles into his soft skin; Michael sighs in quiet pleasure.

“Where’s that coming from?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “I didn’t even say anything. Why’re you so lovey-dovey?”

“Because you’re pretty as hell,” Jeremy says, “and I wanna make sure you know that.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Alright, man, whatever you say.” His eyes fall back to his phone again, reading some article he’d found while clicking around aimlessly on his internet browser, but Jeremy gently turns his head with one hand and looks him directly in the eyes. “Dude, what is it?”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’ and ‘man’,” Jeremy protests, “you’re ruining the mood.” He leans in and presses his lips to Michael’s, soft and plush and delightfully _familiar,_ then says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Uh… yeah, anything,” Michael says, sounding suspicious.

“Can I… can I, uh, kiss your thighs?” Jeremy asks sheepishly, a blush rising to his face. Sure, they’d fucked on several occasions, but he still likes to ask, especially since they weren’t exactly planning on having sex that night. Plus, it’s not like it had to be erotic, right? Despite that fact, Jeremy’s dick stirs, and he curses himself internally. _Jeez, ya fuckin’ horndog, calm down already._ Alas, the damage has been done; chaste kisses have been replaced in his mind’s eye by lovebites, a tongue swiped over Michael’s clit as he works his way up from his (glorious, thick) thighs.

Jeremy almost doesn’t hear Michael’s answer, but tunes in just as he says, “I mean… sure, knock yourself out.” Michael sounds blase, but Jeremy, being his boyfriend, knows him well enough that he can tell he’s more excited than he lets on. Sure enough- “I’d kinda like that, _baby boy.”_

The two of them had found out not too far into their relationship that Jeremy, despite being only a month younger than Michael, absolutely _loved_ being called that. He’d made an embarrassingly obscene noise the first time it slipped almost involuntarily from Michael’s lips, and even now, it makes Jeremy’s heart stop for a moment. “G-good,” he stammers. “Then I’ll do it.” He pushes Michael slightly to the side, urging him to get out of bed. “Will you, um?”

Michael complies, sliding off of his bed and rising to his feet, looking expectantly at Jeremy. “I gotta say, this is one of the more awkward moments of our sexual history.”

“I-I never said it was _sexual,”_ Jeremy splutters, but his semi gives him away; Michael snorts in amusement as he notices it. “So it’s a _little_ sexual, whatever. If you want me to stop, I will.”

“I don’t want you to stop, man,” Michael says, “I want you to _start._ I thought I’d have a cute boy kissing my- my thighs by now.” He trips over the words, as if he can’t believe someone’s offered; it tugs at Jeremy’s sensitive heartstrings.

“Right! R-right, sorry,” Jeremy says, and kneels down in front of Michael, beginning to slide his hands up the back of his thighs. “God, Michael, they’re just _so_ gorgeous.”

Michael chuckles, increasingly embarrassed by Jeremy’s adoration. “They’re not _that_ great,” he mumbles.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jeremy says, and squeezes them; Michael gives a small gasp that goes straight to his heart, and other places. “I think about your thighs so much- oh my absolute God, they’re so thick-” Michael’s face contorts in an odd expression of pain- “shit, no, I mean that in the best way possible.”

“...And the scars?” Michael asks hesitantly.

“Who cares about the scars?” Jeremy’s hands slip up above the hem of Michael’s boxers, then down again, savoring the feeling of his boyfriend in his hands. “Still gorgeous. Still perfect. Still…” He bites his lip. “Still _sexy.”_

Looking down at Jeremy, Michael cups his face with his hands and asks, “You mean it?”

“I _absolutely_ mean it,” Jeremy assures him. He bends down, allowing himself to slouch, and presses a kiss to the inside of Michael’s left thigh. “And perfect to kiss- God, Michael, d’you know how much I think about this? How much I think about kissing and biting them, it’s so hard to focus on lectures sometimes-”

“You think about this in class?” Michael asks, smirking. He cards a hand through Jeremy’s thick, dark hair. “Isn’t that a little dirty, baby boy? No wonder your grades are slipping.”

“I can’t help it!” Jeremy says, and peppers kisses to Michael’s other thigh for a moment before continuing, “You have no idea how _tantalizing_ you are, Jesus Christ, _Michael,_ and the way you press your thighs around my head when you come-” He shudders at the memory, and Michael does too, reliving the sensation of Jeremy’s tongue on the folds of his vulva, moving in circles on his clit, _in_ him; subconsciously, they both clasp each other a little tighter.

“You like that, huh, Jer?” Michael asks, tugging gently on Jeremy’s hair; the other boy hums in obscene pleasure. “Well, if you’re a good boy, you can touch my thighs as much as you want.”

“I'll be a good boy, I promise,” Jeremy croons, shivering at the hint of possessiveness, the unspoken _my_ in Michael's words- _my good boy, my Jeremy._ He trails soft, restrained kisses up Michael's thigh to where his boxers end and asks, “Can I- can I mark you up?”

“Oh, my _God,_ is that even a question?” Michael curls his fingers tight into Jeremy’s hair, egging him on.

Jeremy’s heart sings as Michael shivers beneath his touch, the skin of his thighs so, so soft against his lips, and, in time, his teeth; within a few minutes, dark marks begin to bloom on his skin. Looking at them proudly, eyes half-lidded, Jeremy says, “God, you’re so pretty, I can’t even _stand_ it.” Fantasies flood his mind again, sending another wave of arousal through him- Michael in thigh highs, maybe black or his signature red, the elastic hem pressing into the softness of his thighs; Michael’s thighs straddling his head as he rides his face; Jesus _Christ_ the possibilities.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Michael asks, looking down at Jeremy with raised eyebrows. He knows from experience that Michael isn't as cocky as he sounds, but it doesn’t matter; he’d say more in a heartbeat with or without the challenge. “Tell me more, baby. You could talk about me for days; I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“A-am I that obvious?” Jeremy’s face reddens. It’s true, whenever they’re around each other it’s hard to keep his eyes off Michael- he’s magnetic. With his eyes, he drinks in his curves, his smile, his shining brown eyes that he always finds himself lost in. “I just- you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen, and I’m so glad I’m yours, and that I can…” He breaks himself off and presses his lips to Michael’s thigh, gentle again, before continuing, “that I can worship you like this.”

“Worship me, huh?” Michael replies, and his cool demeanor cracks a little as a blush creeps up his neck. “Tell me your fantasies- tell me what you think about in class, because I _know_ that not every thought that runs through your pretty little head is about trigonometry or Shakespeare.”

Jeremy is silent for a moment before the words spill out of him in a cascade. “I- I think about you riding me, but riding my _face_ so I can hardly breathe and those thighs, those _thighs_ pressed against my head, and all I can taste and feel is you…” Inadvertently, he lets out a moan at the thought, the thought of Michael's warmth against his face sending a shiver straight to his cock. He swallows sharply, body shaking with adrenaline. “Oh my God, Michael, I'll do whatever you want…”

“God, you're such a good boy,” Michael breathes, cupping Jeremy's face in his hands and tilting up his head. “I love the sounds you make, moaning all muffled; you take my pussy like a champ and I _love_ you for it, you're such a good boy, Jer…”

Jeremy hums in arousal and pleasure at the praise, letting the words run through him like electricity- the _good_ electricity, not the SQUIP's torture; he manages to block out the memories for now. “Do you promise? Am I a good boy?” He’d die of embarrassment if he knew someone was hearing this, but with Michael, it's okay; his want to be a 'good boy’ is greater than any shame he feels. “I do my best for you.”

“God, you do so _good,_ baby,” Michael says lowly, stroking Jeremy's cheek with love that emanates from his fingertips. “And the way you look when I'm done with you, when you're all fucked out and breathless and covered in hickeys…”

At the mention of hickeys, Jeremy begins to nip at Michael's thighs again, never taking his mind off of them for too long. God, if only he could spend all day admiring them; he lives for the way he feels at home between them, so, so comfortable and warm as he fucks Michael with his tongue. “I- I have more- I think about it all the time, if you wanna hear-”

“Of course I wanna hear, baby boy,” Michael says, cutting his nervous speech off. “Let it out, it's okay. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“L-lingerie,” Jeremy chokes out simply. “You. In lingerie. It'd make your thighs look so good, the way the stockings would make little divots in your skin. You push my head between your legs so I can feel the fabric brush up against my face…”

“What color?” Michael pries deeper. “Be specific.”

Jeremy makes up his mind on the spot. “Black,” he says. “Black and lacy, and you'd look so pretty, want you to make me pretty too…” He takes a deep breath, shakily inhaling and exhaling. “Give me hickeys, Michael, mark me up ‘cause I'm _yours…”_

“You're mine, baby?” Michael grins down at Jeremy; his hand slides up into his hair and curls tight for a moment. Subconsciously, Jeremy whines at the sharp pain- in pleasure, of course. “So you’d do whatever I want?”

 _“Anything,”_ Jeremy promises, knowing that Michael wouldn’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do anyway. “W-why, what do you want me to do?”

With a soft but firm push down on Jeremy’s shoulders, Michael orders, “Sit down.” Nearly shaking with excitement at this point, Jeremy obeys, decades-old carpet scratching at his palms. When he looks up at him expectantly, waiting for further orders, Michael continues, “And take off your shirt.”

After a couple seconds, Jeremy tosses his shirt to the side, a little embarrassed- he knows that during sex, he’s inherently vulnerable, but he’s not a huge fan of having attention on his body, out of shyness if nothing else. He’d much rather focus on Michael’s, the gentle curvature that he’s been fantasizing about a shameful amount lately; the way he can grip his thighs from the back and squeeze and feel the softness, as opposed to his own, which are too scrawny to be notable, in his opinion; the fullness of his- _ah, shit!_ Lost in his silent worship, Jeremy hadn’t comprehended Michael’s move to straddle his hips until he felt a weight settle on his lap and those full lips against his.

Michael moans as into Jeremy’s mouth as he clutches his shoulders, fingernails digging crescents into his skin. He grinds down onto him, and Jeremy sucks in a shallow breath as the sensation goes straight to his dick. “We just got started and you’re already so flustered,” Michael says, lips leaving Jeremy’s for just a brief moment. “It’s pretty cute.”

“I’m not cute!” Jeremy protests, face reddening even further. “It’s just… you’re so…” He pauses, rifling through his brain for the right word. He settles on “Drop-dead gorgeous,” whispered low and intimate as he puts his hands on Michael’s thighs and holds them tight. “Good God, Michael, I can’t get over it. How did you get to be so beautiful?”

“If you’re talking about my thighs, then um…” Michael squirms, looking flattered but maybe a touch uncomfortable. “I dunno, lack of restraint when I was a little kid?”

“Don’t be embarrassed!” Jeremy says, kicking himself internally for saying the wrong thing, but Michael relaxes slightly at his words. “It’s cute. You’re cute. And really, _really_ hot.” He leans forward to kiss Michael on the cheek, then his jaw, and moving down from his neck to his shoulder. His hands travel up Michael’s back, under his shirt, and he asks, “Can I take it off?”

Michael hesitates, but gives Jeremy permission with a nod; it’s not as if he hasn’t seen him without his top and binder, which, given the late hour, was now set neatly in his dresser along with the clothes he’d worn that day. (Jeremy has always admired the way he doesn’t get his clothes dirty even if he’s eating the messiest snack on the planet, which, since one of his moms had picked up tortilla chips and the insanely spicy salsa that Michael insists on subjecting Jeremy’s sensitive tastebuds to, they’d had that night.) Gingerly, Jeremy slides Michael’s shirt over his head and tosses it into a pile with his own. His heartbeat skips up yet another notch as he’s given free range of Michael’s torso, and he trails his fingertips everywhere he can, mapping his skin with his touch. “Y’know, I could sit here and stare at you for days,” Jeremy murmurs, gripping Michael’s hips. “I could never get tired of you.”

Michael stares at him, brown eyes full of a warm mixture of love and arousal, and says, “Jeremy? I’m going to fuck your face now.”

“Holy shit, _yes,”_ Jeremy says with an infatuated grin as Michael pushes him firmly into a lying position, exhaling hard as his back hits the ground. He takes the liberty of stripping Michael of his underwear- not the satin panties he daydreamed about, but they're still cute and geeky, black and decorated with tiny Poké Balls, so whatever- and throws them aside into the messy pile of shirts. Jeremy takes a moment to grip Michael’s ass, rubbing circles into his thighs with his thumbs, before saying, “C’mon, we gonna do this or no?”

“You’re so _needy,_ Jer,” Michael laughs as he grinds down on Jeremy again, teasing him until he whines in frustration. “Alright, alright…” Michael positions himself, sitting so his pussy is just above Jeremy's face, and Jeremy ravishes him like he's his last meal.

Michael groans and grinds down on Jeremy's face as he swipes his tongue across his clit; Jeremy's left literally (and blissfully) breathless for a couple of seconds before Michael lets up and he can begin to suck at it. Jeremy wants desperately to talk to Michael, tell him all the dirty, obscene thoughts that run through his head starring him, front and center, but he _also_ loves being face fucked and wouldn't trade it for anything. Before he realized he was bi, Jeremy would have chastised himself for being so submissive; now he relishes it, priding himself on being the best boy Michael's ever fucked. (He might be the _only_ boy Michael's ever fucked, he hasn't asked, but the words still mean a lot, whispered in his ear as Michael snaps the latch on his collar.) Jeremy settles for playing over his fantasies like a cassette tape in his mind.

_Michael presses Jeremy's face into his crotch, silencing him aside from blissed-out moans. “How d'you like that, baby boy?” he asks smugly, and Jeremy can only hum in response as he eats him out, savoring the taste of his precum._

Above him, Michael groans in pleasure, melting under the touch of Jeremy's tongue- Jeremy, who loves him; Jeremy, who always seeks to please. The sounds go straight to Jeremy's almost wholly neglected cock, stirring it in his boxers and getting him even more aroused, if that was even possible.

 _Michael's full, dark lips are wrapped around Jeremy's leaking cock, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside. With a swirl of his tongue on the slit, he has Jeremy weak and sweet as honey, blushing as he supports himself on shaking arms. “Oh, God, Michael,”_ he whines, _“it feels so good, more, please, I'm begging you-”_

Jeremy slips his tongue into Michael's entrance, and Michael gasps, music to Jeremy's ears. He wants nothing more than to please him; he wants to hear those soft breaths, the crooning praise, “ _Oh, Jeremy, good boy, you're such a good boy for me…”_

_Michael dresses Jeremy with care, pulling powder-blue stockings onto his legs. He's already fixed the collar around his neck, the label engraved with his name; it'd been an awkward trip to the pet store, but wearing a signifier of ownership and adoration made him feel beautifully warm. “There you go, kitten,” Michael says, whispering in his ear now. “God, you're just the prettiest boy.”_

Michael picks up the pace, grinding down more often now (making sure Jeremy has room to breathe, of course). Jeremy kisses and licks at his clit, tracing patterns into the painfully engorged tissue; he can feel it twitch beneath his tongue, and he moans as he grips Michael's soft hips even tighter.

_Smirking, Michael sucks a hickey into Jeremy's neck. Jeremy mewls in pained delight, happy to be marked as Michael's territory; nobody could take him away if they tried. A rush of arousal runs through his body as he thinks of the looks he'll get, walking alongside Michael with his neck spotted with dark, beautiful marks. Jeremy bucks his hips up against him, urging him to do more, but Michael says strictly, “Be patient, baby.”_

Eventually, Michael begins to come undone under Jeremy's not-quite-expert tongue. He quakes, and his breathing gets faster; Jeremy's heart swells as he hears the soft pants from above him. _So gorgeous,_ he thinks, tongue fucking his pussy now; _Michael Mell, you are the most gorgeous person on Earth._

_“Kitten, I want you to touch yourself,” Michael instructs on the other end of the line. As Jeremy gets himself lubed up, Michael says, “Don't worry, baby, I'll be here every step of the way- if you beg.” Jeremy does, pleading with all his heart, and finally Michael is satisfied. “You're such a good boy,” he says, “and good boys deserve blowjobs. Now, I want you to picture my lips…”_

“Jesus, Jer,” Michael breathes, and Jeremy flicks his clit with his tongue in response. Michael tenses and says, “Do that again, baby, I'm close…” Ever loyal, Jeremy obeys, swiping his tongue up again and again…

_Jeremy whines, long and needy, as Michael leaves the slightest hints of kisses on his jaw and neck. Michael is perfectly aware of his hard-on, and Jeremy knows he's turned on himself, but still, he feels only the ghost of his lips on his skin. “I’ll get there, Jer,” Michael promises. “I just like to see you whine a little.”_

With a shuddering gasp, Michael comes, pleasure pulsing through his veins. Jeremy fucks him through it, alternating between his pussy and his clit; his heart skips a beat as he hears the absolutely _delicious_ sounds that Michael's making. This moment right here? This is heaven. As Michael stills above him, Jeremy is again made painfully aware of his aching dick; Michael must be thinking the same thing, because, as he less-than-gracefully flops over onto the floor and off of Jeremy’s face, he looks down and says, “Hey- hey Jer, you want me to, um…”

Jeremy hums his dissent, rolling over on his side and pulling Michael closer. “Babe, no, ride out the afterglow, it’s okay.” Michael’s generally useless for a couple minutes after coming, and besides, it’s the optimum time to snuggle, one of Jeremy’s favorite things to do. How could it not be? Awkwardly, he wipes off his face on his arm, then lays his head on Michael’s chest, grinning as he feels Michael start to card his fingers through his hair.

Eventually, Michael whispers, “Hey, Jeremy? What do you want, baby?” and oh, does that just get Jeremy going again.

“Um.” Jeremy thinks, breathless for a moment, then says, “I, um. I wanna be pretty.”

“You _are_ pretty, Jer,” Michael says, frowning, before he realizes what Jeremy means. “Oh. _Oh._ You mean…”

“Sorry,” Jeremy says, a blush gracing his face, “for being needy, but- um- the collar, maybe? A-and the stockings?”

Michael kisses Jeremy’s cheek tenderly before extricating himself from Jeremy’s cuddly grip. “You’re not needy. And this stuff makes me really happy, because you’re hot, and I love you. Don’t feel bad about asking for things!”

Jeremy smiles, warm and loved, and shoves his face in his hands. “Stop being nice to me, jerk,” he mumbles, “it’s cute. I dunno how to deal with it. Just- just get the collar.” Michael gives a breathy laugh, making Jeremy blush further; the sexy atmosphere is great and fun and really, _really_ hot, but there’s nothing he’d rather do than just have a good and cute time with his boyfriend. Fortunately, they can strike a balance, which is good because Jeremy’s dick twitches unbearably in his boxers as Michael holds up the aforementioned collar and stockings.

“D’you want to put them on yourself, or should I?” Michael asks, situating himself in front of Jeremy again.

“You know my answer,” Jeremy says, pulling himself into an upright position. “'s no fun if I put them on myself.” For emphasis, he sticks out one leg and sets it on Michael's lap, fixing him with a killer pair of puppy dog eyes.

Michael rolls his eyes, but can't stop himself from smiling. “I take it back, you _are_ needy,” he jokes, and Jeremy chuckles, mirroring his grin. “Fine, I’ll dress you up.”

Jeremy’s skin prickles below Michael’s touch as he tugs the stockings up his legs, soft and loving. That’s the thing about Michael: he can be two different people within an hour. Sure, he was just fucking Jeremy’s face and making little effort to be gentle, but when Jeremy just wants to be adored once in a while- a guilty pleasure, and he’d shriek if Michael ever told anyone about his distinct lack of manliness- he’s 100% willing to be the sweetest person on earth.

His ears burn with embarrassment as Michael, as he had in his fantasies earlier, adjusts the collar around his neck. It’s just loose enough so that he can hook a finger in, and he does, pulling Jeremy in for a kiss, and whispers, “God, you’re so pretty. I still can’t believe you’re into this. How did I luck out like that?”

Flattered, Jeremy shrugs. “Uh- I dunno. Well, how’d _I_ luck out on having a great boyfriend like you?”

“Fate or something, I dunno,” Michael says, and presses a kiss to Jeremy’s jaw as his fingers thread through his hair. With his other hand, he brushes Jeremy’s dick teasingly through the fabric of his boxers. “Can I hear my pretty boy beg?”

Michael doesn’t even have to ask; as soon as Jeremy feels his touch on his painfully hard cock, a litany of _God, Michael, please_ s and _Come on, I need it_ s fall from his lips. Ever impatient, he reaches down to try to get some release, but Michael catches his wrist without looking away from his eyes. “Michael-”

With a shake of his head, Michael says, “Let me do this, baby. I _want_ to do this for you, but only if you ask nicely.”

“Michael, _please,_ I need it so bad,” Jeremy whines. “You’re so freakin’ hot and I kept thinking about everything I wanted you to do to me while you were riding my face and I can’t _deal_ with it…” He shivers, remembering again the fantasies that swim through his mind, never far from the forefront of his thoughts. “Please, Michael, I’ll be _so_ good.”

Michael presses a sweet, soft kiss to Jeremy’s forehead and whispers, “That’s a good boy. What d’you want me to do to you, Jer?”

“Just- I- Just-” Jeremy’s brain is rendered useless by lust, short-circuiting as it does at around a thrice-weekly basis. “Will you touch me? Please? Just… jack me off or something, I can’t stand it, _oh my God.”_

“Shh, hey, it’ll be okay,” Michael says, and palms his still-clothed dick. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna make you feel good, alright? I promise.” He twists around awkwardly and grabs the small bottle of lube that he keeps underneath his bed. As he flips the cap up and starts to slick up Jeremy’s cock, finally freed from his boxers, he croons, “You really do look so beautiful, kitten.”

Jeremy digs his nails into the carpet, sighing in relief at finally being touched, even if it’s just to lube him up. “I think I’d look better if you marked me up,” he says softly. “You’re really good with your teeth.”

“I do my best,” Michael says, but the pride comes through in his voice. “C’mere.” He pulls Jeremy closer, sitting him in his lap, and Jeremy crosses his gangly legs behind him. Michael cups the back of Jeremy’s neck and nibbles at the tender skin where it meets his jaw; beneath him, Jeremy exhales a shaky breath of pleasure.

“Michael,” he says, bucking his hips to shift the attention, “you’re forgetting something…”

Michael blessedly takes Jeremy’s cock again and pumps it, and Jeremy hums contentedly, pressing his face into the crook of Michael’s neck. Michael takes the opportunity to kiss and bite at his shoulder as he strokes him; evidently, neither of them would be coming out of this unmarked. “You like this, baby?” he asks when his mouth is free for a moment. “Want me to speed up a little?”

Wordlessly, Jeremy nods, hair rubbing softly against Michael’s skin. He whimpers when Michael’s pace picks up, alternating between a tight and loose grip and keeping Jeremy guessing. When he runs a thumb over the slit, Jeremy tenses and instinctively bites down onto Michael’s shoulder.

“Ow, hey!” Michael laughs, and gives Jeremy’s hair a tug in revenge. Jeremy moans, voice cracking midway through, and his dick twitches in Michael’s hand; he’d always been a sucker for hair pulling, which Michael had discovered back in their junior year when he tried to deter him from stealing his food. Needless to say, Jeremy couldn’t face him without wallowing in shame for the next few days.

It takes an embarrassingly short time for Jeremy to edge towards the brink of orgasm. He’s shaking in Michael’s grip, fucking feebly up into his hand, and the tiny bell on his collar jingles as a punctuation each time he does. “Michael?” he whispers. “Michael, I’m close.”

“Already, kitten?” Michael says with a grin, breath warm on Jeremy’s ear. Jeremy blushes at the teasing, but is resigned to the fact that yes, he doesn’t last long. ...Yet. “Kidding, I’m kidding. It’s okay, baby, I’ll help you out.” Expertly, Michael gives Jeremy’s cock a few good pumps, twisting his hand towards the top in a simple gesture that somehow makes all the difference.

Jeremy comes with a breathy, high-pitched moan, spilling over Michael’s fingers and into his lap. Michael strokes him through it, not letting up even when Jeremy again digs his teeth into his shoulder reflexively. He glows at the praise that Michael murmurs in his ear, all the _Good boy_ s and _So, so pretty_ s and _My sweet kitten_ s, little intimacies that make his day just a little brighter. Finally, his muscles relax, and he presses, spent, to Michael, who cradles him in his dirtied arms. “Michael?” Jeremy says, voice hushed.

“Yeah, Jer?” Michael runs his hand- the cleaner of the two- through Jeremy’s dark hair, curling his fingers gently into it.

“I love you. ...A lot,” Jeremy says, and pulls away for a moment to press a kiss to Michael’s lips. “And also, this was fuckin’ awesome.”

“Hell, yeah, it was.” Michael kisses Jeremy’s cheek once, twice, three times; tender touches replace his firm grip. “We’re kinda gross, though. D’you wanna… like, get things cleaned up or something?”

“Fuck, no,” Jeremy groans, and falls back onto the floor with a grunt. “It’s like, two in the morning. I just wanna cuddle and go to sleep. Your moms don’t come down here anyway, right?”

Michael nods his head. “Yeah, the teenage boy-stink gets to them, which I blame on _you,_ since I smell like an angel.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Jeremy asks, looking up at Michael as he moves to support himself on his elbows. “Also, I smell amazing. I wear Axe! It’s what all the cool guys wear.”

Michael’s face contorts in disgust, edging away from Jeremy. “Dude, I can’t _believe_ I actually fucked you.” Despite the teasing, he extends a hand to Jeremy when he stands up, pulling the taller boy up and pulling him in for a kiss. “Love you, though. I don’t think I ever said it back.”

“It got through, don’t worry,” Jeremy assures him. “Let’s go to bed now, though, okay?” He reaches behind his neck and unclips the collar, then drops it on the ground and kicks it under Michael’s bed; after that come the stockings. “Gonna need some new boxers, though. I guess I didn’t prepare well…”

“You willing to take a pair of mine?” Michael asks, and, when Jeremy nods, he goes to rummage around in a drawer of his dresser for a moment before tossing him a pair. Jeremy grunts as the boxers hit him in the face, and Michael cracks up, running a hand through his hair. “You truly have catlike reflexes, Jer.”

“Shut up,” Jeremy grumbles, pulling the boxers up his legs, and sticks his tongue out at him. He drops tiredly onto the bed, then sticks his arms out and waggles his fingers, beckoning Michael. “C’mon, can we just snuggle now? Please? I’m exhausted.”

“You’re _cute_ is what you are,” Michael says, and quickly pulls on his own underwear and a new shirt before flopping down onto the bed himself. It takes a few moments to get situated under the covers, but soon enough, Jeremy is back safe in Michael’s arms, eyes half-lidded as he looks up in adoration. “What’s with the face, Jeremy?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna go to sleep?”

Jeremy shakes his head, cheek rubbing against Michael’s shirt. “I changed my mind. I just wanna look at you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading i love you and im sorry


End file.
